


Let's Take A Break

by IdrisEleven



Series: Da Vinci's Ficlets [6]
Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Modern AU, just a little character moment, photo prompt from Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisEleven/pseuds/IdrisEleven
Summary: Riario and Leo leave for a short stay at a villa in the Italian countryside. Just a little character moment, set in modern times, so technically a Modern AU. A trifle, really.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a promotional photo of Blake Ritson and Tom Riley (in modern clothing) posing against the Italian countryside. Originally posted by d-ragonfl-y on Tumblr: http://d-ragonfl-y.tumblr.com/image/152257450435
> 
> Posted on my Tumblr here: http://idriseleven.tumblr.com/post/152281583652/romibsauce-d-ragonfl-y-leario-modern

The villa belongs to the family, not much to look at, but the location is divine. “Look, Leo, just come with me. There won’t be anybody else there–well, just some staff, I don’t trust you to cook. I am sick to death of Rome.”

Leo looked up from his notebook, where he was sketching some set designs for a small theater he had found on one of his walks. “Leave Rome? You never leave Rome.” He scratched his jaw–the beard had gotten a little longer than usual, when had he last trimmed it?

Riario refused to be drawn into a debate. “I am leaving it now. The weather here is dreadful, the pigeons are a menace, and I want to get out of the city. Will you come with me or am I going alone?”

That last question was purely rhetorical, of course. Leo always preferred moving around to staying in one place, and Riario knew that. “How long?”

“I am packing for a week. I expect that your toothbrush and a change of shirt will fit in my bag.” The tone was disapproving but resigned–Leo often failed to notice when he wore the same clothes several days in a row. But a small smile played around Riario’s lips that belied his tone.

Leo didn’t notice the smile, so he bristled at the insult. “I know how to dress–I just have more important things to think about than clothes.”

Riario continued to suppress his grin, which merely deepened his dimples. “Oh, do you now?”

Leo showed his middle finger over his shoulder as he left to pack. It was a move he had picked up from Zoroaster, and his execution was flawless.

Once in the hills of the Fiesole, some indefinable tension left Riario’s shoulders and his very posture changed. The smile returned, playing hide and seek around his mouth–the mobility of his features drew Leo’s artistic attention. How would he ever capture the play of expression on the man’s face? 

The open top of the convertible created enough wind to ruffle Riario’s bangs, and he blinked to keep the stray hairs out of his eyes. “I should probably warn you,” he began, his voice raised to overcome the sound of the moving air. “Our housekeeper has been with the family for ages. She might insist on documenting our presence for her scrapbooks.”

“What do you mean, documenting our presence?” The phrase sounded–ominous?

“I mean, she has a terrible Brownie camera from her childhood, and she insists on having us pose for a photo at least once before we leave.” Riario actually smiled at this, a dazzling grin that had been missing the last weeks in Rome. Leo had missed it. “I think she must have hundreds of snapshots of us from over the years. Do NOT–” he lifted a hand from the steering wheel to point it at Leo, “do NOT even THINK about looking at photos of me as a child.”

“Of course not.” But of course, he had already begun plotting how to get into the good graces of this venerable housekeeper. Childhood photos were only the beginning of what Leo intended to learn about Riario’s childhood over the next week.

Donna Cavelli was a tiny woman, wiry and fierce and the top of her head barely came up to Riario’s shoulder. Nevertheless, she ordered him around as if he was still the boy she knew all those years ago. “Girolamo!” she cried, coming out of the house as if she had been waiting at the door for their arrival. “You come and give your old Donna a kiss now!” She walked, crab-like, across the gravel drive, obviously favoring her left hip. Leo wondered if she ought to have it replaced. “So good to see you, bambino, and how terrible of you to not come see me more often.” If she could have reached, Leo was certain she would have pinched Riario’s cheek, and he was disappointed that he couldn’t see Riario’s reaction.

She barely took a breath before turning and exclaiming, “And who is this handsome man? Oh Girolamo, you have found yourself someone who deserves you!” Well, that was a surprise–attitudes toward their relationship were mostly accepting in Rome; Leo hadn’t really expected an old family retainer to be so open. Perhaps this meant that they could dispense with the “adjoining bedrooms” situation?

“But you must be tired and hungry after your drive. Go! Go and wash and change and we will eat on the terrace. I have made your all your favorites!”

Riario swung his leather grip out of the back seat, while Leo grabbed his canvas duffle. “Any chance any of ‘your favorites’ will be vegetarian?”

He laughed at the sight of Riario actually rolling his eyes. “I literally have no idea. I don’t know what she thinks my favorites might be. I am certain there was a time when I refused to eat anything other than buttered noodles, so you should be fine.”

Indeed, Donna Cavelli had given them the master suite–no subterfuge about sleeping arrangements were needed. Riario unpacked his grip, his clothing precisely rolled and folded and as crisp as they had been when he packed them in Rome. Leo’s duffle was not nearly as carefully arranged, a situation made worse by the condition his clothes had been in even before they had been hastily shoved into the bag. He ruefully pulled out a few items, and shook them in an attempt to get rid of the wrinkles.

“I am going to shave–Donna Cavelli will expect us to dress for dinner.” He looked back at the tangled pile of undifferentiated fabrics Leo was extracting from his disreputable luggage. “That means a collared shirt, a jacket, and a belt. At the very least!”

Well, Leo had conformed to the letter of his instructions, Riario had to admit. There was indeed a collared shirt, although Leo wore it entirely unbuttoned and untucked, open over a clean enough tee shirt. He had a jacket on as well, with the sleeves rolled and pushed up over his elbows. The belt was hidden by the untucked tee shirt, and he was wearing jeans, but on the whole, Riario had to admit that Leo had made an effort. More of an effort than was his usual practice. Although his hair was still standing straight up atop his head, apparently styled by the wind from the convertible ride.

“Stand a little closer please, and move over to your right.” Leo could not stop looking at the ancient camera the tiny woman was holding over her face. The camera was easily older than he was! Without warning, there was a click and Donna Cavelli’s face reappeared. “I like a candid shot–all that nonsense about ‘say cheese’ just destroys the individual personalities.” She began to shoo them towards the table. “I do hope you are hungry.”


End file.
